


The first time

by Anythingtoasted



Series: Five Times Dean and Cas Snuck Around [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 5 Times, Gratuitous Smut, M/M, Shameless, Sneaking Around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 23:30:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anythingtoasted/pseuds/Anythingtoasted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>part 1 of 'five times dean and cas snuck around'</p>
            </blockquote>





	The first time

**Author's Note:**

> i make no apologies for my behaviour at this point

 

The rough clank of keys on the kitchen counter stills them in their tracks, and Dean looks over his shoulder at Cas, breathing rough and hot. They stare at each other.

 

They have to be quiet so he can’t even hiss words at him –  _what the fuck are we going to do? –_ and there is no compromising position so very clear as this, both of them on their knees on the living room carpet, Dean pulled flush against Cas’ chest, Cas buried inside him. What would he say? ‘ _Hey, Sam, I tripped and fell on Cas’ dick, give us a hand up?_ ’. Somehow he thinks it wouldn’t fly.

 

The worst of it is that he’s still in the moment – still wants Cas to move, still wants the pressure of his hand wrapped around his dick. Cas shifts behind him, spurs of his hips pressing against Dean’s back as he moves, and Dean is just about to dejectedly untangle them from each other when Cas starts rocking in and out of him again.

 

He makes a noise – short, muffled by his own tongue pressed behind his teeth – and listens for the telltale sound of movements in the other room; some indicator that his brother will come in, that he’ll find them, instigate a conversation Dean hopes they’ll never have. Another noise, short ‘uh’ sound – Cas, utter fucking asshole that he is, has found the place where they’re joined with his hand and slipped a finger in alongside his cock, stretching Dean fuller, heat blooming sharp at the base of his spine. He makes another sound, helpless, wanting to scold him somehow but unable to form words – Cas knows he likes this, knows he  _loves_ it, burning edge where the pain starts flushing in, just a little further, never quite over to the other side; just a pleasant stretch, just something extra, and usually he’s thankful that Cas is so amenable to his whims, both in bed and out of it.

 

But here they’re not even in bed, and Cas is fucking him so slowly it makes almost no noise, silent glide of his cock and finger shifting, in and out. Dean tips his head back onto Cas’ shoulder, pushes back against him, hates him and loves him at once for being like this, and before he can make another sound Cas’ free hand is pushing into his mouth, four fingers treading along his teeth, muffling anything that might give them away.

 

He doesn’t expect it – how it makes his face flush, stomach go tight; makes him imagine things they can do that never quite struck him as appealing before. Cas holding him down; Cas telling him what to do (quietly, of course), Cas finding ways to actually  _deny_ him, something he so seldom does that it almost feels illicit to think it.

 

Cas laughs in his ear – Dean reaches behind himself, grabs his ass, pulls him in further and would have huffed,  _‘fuck you’_ in any other situation than this – but he’s still listening to Sam moving around the kitchen next door, still trying to fight the overwhelming pressure inside him, how good it is, how good it could be if they just had a little more time, Cas’ fingers wet against his tongue.

 

Cas only has to touch him briefly, finger slipped away from inside him, hand curling around his cock; and then Dean is biting down on Cas’ hand, huffing breaths through his nose like he’s been running, squeezing his eyes shut and wondering if it’s possible to get come out of a carpet. Cas’ hand is wet, has caught most of it, wrapped around the head of Dean’s cock in haste, but it is dripping out of his fist nonetheless, dribbling down Dean’s thighs, dampening the carpet where his knees are pressed.

 

He thinks, pushing strange through the haze, that perhaps he should mention it – but Cas is still going for it behind him, drawing in and out a little faster, little more desperately, picking up pace until the sound of his balls against Dean’s ass gets audible, then slowing down again with a frustrated, petulant noise against Dean’s ear.

 

He pulls Dean tightly to him when he finally tips over the edge – bites down on Dean’s shoulder to muffle the noise, or maybe just because they’re pushing the boundaries in general, today. His hips jerk, trying to push farther in; Dean pulls him closer with the hand on his ass, feels Cas grip at his belly, both of them trying to press more impossibly together; and then Cas slumps against his back, and Dean knows that if they don’t get the fuck out of here soon, Cas is going to pass out, immobile and naked on the floor of the living room, fist covered in come.

 

He regrets it – too fast, the sensation uncomfortable – but he pulls off Cas as quickly as he can, tries not to fall back into Cas’ arms, though his legs are shaking from kneeling for so long. He gets up and grabs Cas’ hand, yanking him roughly to his feet, and grabs as best he can at the pile of clothes they’ve left scattered, wincing at the tiny puddle of come on the floor by his feet. Hopefully, it’s not too noticeable; hopefully Sam won’t fucking step in it or something, because Dean’s not sure which line that crosses but he thinks it’s a pretty fucking thick one.

 

And of course Cas allows himself to be dragged, but still presses his sweaty, naked self against Dean’s back as they rush to Dean’s bedroom door; still slurs a kiss against the back of Dean’s neck and laughs like this whole thing has been fucking hilarious, and not one of the most potentially mortifying episodes of Dean’s life.

 

They stumble into the room together and look at each other; Cas with his barely contained mirth, Dean flushed red from nose to navel.

 

They say nothing until Dean dumps the pile of clothes he’s been carrying on the bed, and sits down on the edge of it, pressing his forehead into his palms. Cas comes to rest beside him, and puts a hand on his knee.

 

“Would it really be so terrible?” he mumbles, and Dean turns from his hands to look at him.

 

“I don’t want to,” he says softly, feeling shitty for it, like Cas is something he’s  _ashamed of –_ that’s the last thing he is, the last thing Dean would ever want him to feel; but this is so much easier than telling people, than being brave and all that other fucking crap people talk about when they have no idea what they actually mean. Cas frowns, and Dean feels a screaming match coming on, so he deliberately changes the subject.

 

“I liked that, what you did to me,” he says, face twisting into the smallest grin, and Cas looks bewildered until realisation dawns.

 

“In your mouth?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You were being too loud,” Cas says plainly, as if Dean hadn’t realised that was why he did it, and Dean nods.

 

“Yeah, but – if you wanted to do it again, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He knows Cas thinks he’s a little off-centre – how these little things based on human standards make him blush and murmur and laugh blurrily against the mattress – but he also knows Cas will do it next time, and not even question why. He’s pleased when Dean is pleased; he’s happy when Dean enjoys himself, and he’ll bend to whatever, as if there are no limits to what he’ll engage in. The first time Dean asked Cas to come on him – stomach or face or the crest of his hip – Cas had just done it, easy as if it were nothing, and then kissed the slick white from Dean’s lips with no pretension at all.

 

Cas leans over and kisses the side of his face, sweet and chaste, to remind him that they’re friends. He does this often, and Dean is thankful for it, though he’s never said so; sometimes he needs a reminder that Cas is in this for himself as much for Dean; that Cas made the first move, the first tremulous gasp into Dean’s mouth, first push of the heel of a hand against his cock.

 

“Can I sleep here tonight?”

 

“You always do.” But he’s smiling, and as Cas crawls back to edge under the covers, skin still tacky with sweat, making Dean frown when he wipes his hand against the comforter, he wonders – would it be so bad? To kiss him over breakfast, tell his brother he’s in love?

 

He shakes his head, finds his robe next to the door, pulls it on. In the hallway he almost collides with Sam, and manages to pull the door shut behind him fast; paste on a grin. “Hey, Sammy. Just going for a shower.” Sam looks at him oddly, but nods like it’s nothing at all. 


End file.
